Brace For Impact Read online

  “You do have cracked or broken ribs,” he reminded her. Then he grinned. “We started out at four this morning and didn’t stop except for the one brief break until two. You know it’s harder on the legs to go down than up.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Are you telling me I’m sore because I’m in such lousy shape?”

  Another grin flashed, making that bony, scarred face momentarily charming and sexy. “I’d never put it that way.”

  She wrinkled her nose, even though he was right. Even this past year when she’d taken up hiking, her two or three mile outings were more strolls than anything strenuous. She’d probably been more fit before, when she made herself go to the health club at least three days a week.

  Smile lingering, Will handed her a pouch and spoon. “Fine dining.”

  “I’m starved,” she admitted, and started eating. She was vaguely aware he was doing the same.

  “How’s your head?” he asked suddenly.

  “Well, I have a headache, but...” It wasn’t easy to separate out how her head alone felt. “It’s better, I think.” If only her thighs weren’t screaming.

  His relaxation was so subtle, she guessed he hadn’t wanted her to know quite how worried he’d been.

  “Does that mean I didn’t have a concussion?”

  “No, I’m sure you did, but apparently not severe. Which is fortunate, given our activities.”

  Running for their lives.

  Maddy frowned. “Isn’t it weird that they shot at us?”

  “Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that.” He balled up his dinner packet and dropped it into a zip-top plastic bag that held trash. “It’s possible that, with high-end binoculars or rifle scopes, they got a good enough look at you to match up with photos. They might have seen the sling and your bruises. Plus, we were in the right vicinity, not that far from the crash site. That said, they had no reason to think there’d be two of us, and we mostly had our backs to them as we descended. They must know there are climbers in the area.”

  Feeling a chill despite the warmth of the afternoon, Maddy said, “Is it possible that they didn’t want anyone who might conceivably have seen the crash site to get out and report it?”

  His implacable expression belonged to the soldier he’d been. “That’s my bet,” he said after a moment. “If rescue personnel showed up and they caught a glimpse of a pair of mercenaries equipped with AK-47s, what’re they going to think? And if they locate the crash and find one of the dead men was a US marshal, that would set off a serious hunt for the missing passenger. No, they need to—” He broke off, an apology in his eyes.

  “Eliminate me,” Maddy finished. “That’s what you were going to say, isn’t it?”

  “And any witnesses.”

  “The trouble is, now they have to make you disappear, too.”

  His eyebrows climbed. “If you’re thinking of apologizing, don’t. I was where I needed to be.”

  How lucky had she been, to have Will Gannon come running to her rescue? A soldier, a medic and a man of honor.

  “You’ll have to let me thank you eventually.”

  He grunted. “Wait until we’re back to civilization.”

  Maddy bent her head and finished her dinner. After disposing of the packet and giving him back the metal spoon, she said lightly, “I don’t suppose you have any English breakfast tea in that backpack?”

  “No, but I have coffee. Like a cup?”

  “Are you kidding? I would love coffee.”

  Will laughed. “Won’t take long to heat the water.”

  Two years ago she’d have disdained instant coffee. After all, there were at least two coffee shops on every block in Seattle, and coffee stands in most downtown businesses, too. This was only one of the many ways her life had changed.

  In no time he handed over coffee that contained both sugar and creamer. Will sat beside her on the sleeping bag, his cup more a bowl. He’d offered her a choice of two candy bars, too.

  “Was it Mary Poppins who could produce amazing things from her carpet bag?” Maddy asked.

  The corners of his mouth twitched. “I’m sure I saw the movie, but I mostly remember the umbrella.”

  She couldn’t resist singing, “Just a spoonful of sugar makes the medicine go down. You even had sugar.”

  Will chuckled. “Fortunately, I overpacked. I thought I might stay an extra couple of days in the backcountry instead of heading right out.”

  “You’re doing that, all right,” Maddy murmured. “Only you’re having to feed two of us.”

  The gray eyes resting on her were intent and...warm. “Food may get scanty by the end, but we’ll be all right.” He smiled. “I’ll buy you a burger and fries on our way home.”

  The thought was lovely, but unreal. It might not be that many miles as the crow flies to the nearest burger joint, but she could barely walk. Still...it was something to hold on to.

  “Where do you think those men are?” Maddy heard herself ask. “You don’t seem worried.”

  In fact, Will’s pose was casual, one long leg outstretched, the other bent. He hadn’t yet hushed her, or kept his voice especially low. She knew the odds were slim that Torkelson’s hired gunmen would either be able to track her and Will or happen to stumble on them, given the vast expanse of wilderness, but it wasn’t that many hours since they’d been fired on.

  All the tension his body didn’t give away was in his eyes when they met hers. “It’s time I show you where I think they are, and why we have a problem.”

  He spread out the topographical map, which clearly displayed elevation and how steeply it rose. Never having seen one before, Maddy watched closely as his finger tapped first on the summit of the mountain he’d climbed, then the approximate location of the crash...and finally their current location, at his best guess. And yes, experience with map reading wasn’t necessary to see the problem.

  Unless they were to do some serious scrambling and pass over a glacier at the foot of the sharp peak of McMillan Spire to descend into a different V-shaped creek valley, there was only one way out. Stetattle Creek.

  Will put the obvious into words. “They don’t know where we are now. But unless they’re stupider than we can count on, they do know where we’ll be soon.”

  Maddy couldn’t tear her eyes from the map. “They’ll be lying in wait.”

  Chapter Six

  “What if we did go up?” Maddy asked, out of the blue.

  It was several hours later, and they’d decided to hit the sack, literally, given that their only bedding was a single sleeping bag and one blanket. Since Will had shown her the map and the hard reality ahead of them, they’d talked about other things, quietly and with no urgency. Nothing important, and yet the experience had been strangely intimate. There’d been no pretense between them, no game playing. Will recognized the experience; nights before his unit was to head into the kind of action some of them might not come out of alive, they’d talked like this.

  A sharp-edged memory popped up. Alan Todd had described one night’s spare meal and quiet conversation as the last supper. Will wondered later if Todd could have had a premonition. He’d died the next day, only weeks before Will almost bought it.

  He shook off the recollection. This wasn’t like that—except it was.

  He didn’t think either he or Maddy had said a word in nearly an hour now beyond the practical. They’d shared a cup of water to brush their teeth and, in her case, take some more of his dwindling supply of pain meds. He went one way, her another, for a few minutes of necessary privacy. Now, although night hadn’t fully darkened the sky, he had sprawled on his back and was helping Maddy arrange herself as comfortably as possible beside and on top of him.

  Her softly voiced question followed a few gasps and small cries of pain as she slowly, awkwardly lay down. Will had had a broken collarbone once, and remembered well
what the first weeks had been like. Add cracked or broken ribs, and lying down wasn’t the relief you’d expect. At least last night they’d figured out the most comfortable position for her.

  Once her broken arm lay on his chest and her head nestled on his shoulder, he said baldly, “You’re in no condition to go mountain climbing. It could add two days to our trip, and a good part of that would be in the open, above the tree line. What if they’re watching? Or the helicopter comes back for a flyover?”

  She didn’t say anything.

  “Stetattle Creek will be hard enough to follow. Terror Creek is notorious. And if we made it, we’d pop out at Newhalem instead of Diablo where I parked my car. I could hide you and hitch a ride, I guess, but if those bastards got a good look at me—”

  The way she sucked in a breath, he knew he didn’t have to finish.

  Truth was, he had enough worries about the Stetattle Creek route. The tangle of vegetation would be bad, and he had no doubt they’d also be swarmed by mosquitoes. They might have to cross back and forth over the creek if and when one bank was especially inhospitable, and how would Maddy do on slippery rocks or trying to edge across a fallen tree trunk? Bullets might come out of nowhere. And then, the last part of the route was on an honest-to-God trail that wasn’t heavily used, but was promoted in the couple of guidebooks he’d seen. What would he or Maddy say to strangers met on the trail? Gosh, gee, had a little accident but she’s fine? They’d remember her, talk about her in the campground or the store, maybe mention the green Jeep they’d seen the odd couple drive away in.

  He and Maddy would not emerge from the wilderness unseen, which presented a danger as real as the ambush he had no doubt they would meet at some point higher up on Stetattle Creek.

  Damn, maybe he should rethink this. But it didn’t take a moment for him to know he’d made the only possible decision. Her fever hadn’t climbed, but she was still too warm, which meant infection was working somewhere in her body. The fact that she’d be miserably sore tomorrow wouldn’t help. And then there was the food situation. If all went well, they wouldn’t starve to death, but his supply had dwindled alarmingly, and she needed fuel to overcome the pain.

  As he lay there looking up, seeing bats darting against the deepening sky, she lay stiff until he lifted his free hand and smoothed her hair from her face, then kept stroking her, fingertips only, and carefully. Temple, cheekbone, the bridge of her nose and the uninjured side of her forehead.

  She sighed and snuggled closer. Five minutes later he knew she’d fallen asleep, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

  Fears and doubts raced like a hamster on a wheel. At the same time, he was distracted by the soft press of Maddy’s breasts, the curve of her hip, the warmth of her breath in the V of his shirt. When was the last time he’d held a woman? Had to be months before he’d come so close to losing his leg or even his life. She—whoever she was—hadn’t felt as good as Maddy did.

  Funny to think that, considering her hair was still matted, the left side of her face was garishly discolored and swollen and she probably didn’t smell sweet. Since he hadn’t had more than what his father called a sponge bath in... Will had to think. Damn, had it really been five days? Well, he wasn’t going to lift an arm and do a sniff test. He did have a bar of soap and a towel in his pack. Once they reached the creek, they could both clean up. He hadn’t brought so much as a comb, but there’d been a brush in her duffel. He hoped he had transferred it to his pack.

  You want to die clean?

  Irritated by the defeatist voice in his head, he returned to his original thought.

  He liked sleeping with Maddy Kane. He’d like to do more than sleep, once every movement didn’t cause her pain.

  She stirred and gave a small moan. Will smiled wryly, kissed the top of her head and closed his eyes.

  * * *

  MADDY SURFACED TO a gray dawn, the now too-familiar awareness that if she moved it would hurt...and that, once again, she was all but draped over an exceptionally solid male body.

  His breathing changed almost as soon as she opened her eyes.

  “Morning, sunshine,” he said huskily.

  “That’s me,” she mumbled, struggling to remember what day this was. Tuesday, she finally decided.

  The muscular wall of his chest vibrated with a laugh. “Speaking of sunshine, doesn’t look like we’ll have any today.”

  She’d gotten so used to eastern Washington’s drier, sunnier climate, the possibility of gray drizzle startled her. Getting wet was sure to make everything much worse. She didn’t comment, however, because they had to move on. Whining was useless.

  She did wince when she stretched her legs, hoping they wouldn’t cramp. As soon as she was on her feet, she limped stiffly off to pee. When she returned to the camp, she found Will heating water.

  He glanced at her with a smile. “I figured we could take the time for coffee.”

  “Bless you.”

  He skimmed her with an assessing gaze. “How are you?”

  “Sore,” she admitted, “but my knee feels better.” She hoped that wasn’t wishful thinking.

  While they ate a hasty breakfast of granola and dried fruit, he told her about the time he’d broken his collarbone in a pickup football game on base. “Fortunately, I wasn’t due to be deployed, or my lieutenant would have been seriously unhappy. It gets less painful as it goes, but I’m sorry to tell you it took months to completely heal.”

  “How does the bone ever knit when it’s constantly being shifted?”

  “Got me.” He added powdered milk to her coffee and handed it over.

  “So.”

  Will looked at her inquiringly.

  “How are we going to avoid getting gunned down?”

  “By moving slowly and doing reconnaissance.”

  “And what if they shoot some poor climbers on their way down?”

  He shook his head. “This isn’t a common route. I think it was Fred Beckey, one of the great northwest mountaineers, who called whacking your way up or down the thickets in these valleys ‘pure misery.’”

  She digested that. “Are you telling me there’s a better way?”

  “From where we are now? No. To climb Elephant Butte, I came along the top of Stetattle Ridge from Sourdough Mountain. I could have followed another ridge from there to McMillan Spire. Otherwise, climbers in the southern Pickets sometimes drop down Terror Creek until it meets Goodell Creek, which leads to the Skagit River. That’s the way we could have taken if we’d been willing to climb up and over. Stetattle Creek is doable, but not popular. Although I really wonder whether there’s any difference.”

  She only nodded. What was there to say?

  Will stared down into his coffee for a disquieting minute, then swallowed what was left and began to pack up.

  Within minutes they were ready to go.

  They might not have reached the “pure misery” part of the descent, but the still incredibly steep downhill pitch was torment enough for Maddy. She hadn’t been on flat ground since the airport by Republic. The trees were now larger than the ones where the plane had come down, but otherwise every step was as difficult. She had to use her good hand to grab whatever branch or rock was available and slither or pick her way a few feet down. Will always descended first then turned to either lend her a hand or be ready to catch her if she fell.

  Her arm and chest felt like...she didn’t know. Burning embers. With her arm in the sling, it almost felt as if she were carrying the agony in the crook of her arm, something she didn’t dare drop.

  Her calf muscles and quads weren’t happy with her, either. That, at least, was normal. She told herself to pretend she was pushing it on the elliptical in the gym, in those once-upon-a-time days when looking great in Spandex was a big part of her goal. Yes, her muscles had screamed then, but she’d never insisted they keep screaming until they becam
e hoarse.

  Every so often she saw a squirrel or a chipmunk, a quick dart, whisk of a tail, bright eyes watching these intruders in their wilderness. Will stopped her once with a hand on her arm.

  “Listen.”

  Tat-a-tat.

  “Woodpecker,” she whispered. “That’s the first thing I heard when I regained consciousness after the crash.”

  His gaze sharpened. “You were unconscious? For how long?”

  “How am I supposed to know? It’s not like I was paying attention to time anyway, and then after...my phone was gone.”

  Tat-a-tat.

  “Sorry,” he said. He squeezed her hand and started out again.

  Until he paused to help her, she could only see his shoulders, the bulk of the pack and those long, strong legs. Lying down, she tended to forget quite how tall he was. At five foot seven, she wasn’t short for a woman, but the top of her head barely reached above his shoulders.

  Maddy wondered how much he chafed at their halting progress. She imagined him bounding downward—but he’d probably have taken a different route if he hadn’t seen her plane go down and saddled himself with the injured survivor. Except she knew he’d meant it when he said, I was where I needed to be. Even...where he wanted to be?

  As she tired, her thoughts bounced around as if they were in a pinball machine. What Mrs. Brophy would think when her bookkeeper didn’t come back after the two-week “vacation.” The view from her small office in the law firm in Seattle, including just the tiniest slice of the water. Her then-boyfriend reaching for her hand instead of Will. For an instant she was confused. Doug got manicures. He had narrow, elegant hands and absolutely no calluses. His hand didn’t engulf hers the way Will’s did, either.

  Doug would have been no help to her at all in the wilderness with killers on her heels.

  The word killer switched her to a loop she’d rerun thousands of times. The man standing over her terrified client, the big black gun. The pop, pop. How close Maddy had come to falling back. A face impassive but for a trace of disgust or irritation. The way his head came up suddenly, turned as if he’d heard her breathe, knew suddenly there was someone else in the house. If he’d looked for her, she wouldn’t be here now. But then, two good men wouldn’t have died horribly because of her, either.